Fallen Angel
by miyame-chan
Summary: Marlee is an angel, everyone knows that. But what they don't know is that she doesn't want the crown. Being the queen is merely a position that anyone can get compared to what she truly wants: true love. And for that to happen, sometimes angels have to fall. —Spoilers for The Elite


Fallen Angel

::

Marlee Tames. Sweet, beautiful, giving... these are the reasons—and many more, perhaps—why so many people adore her.

Angelic, radiant, trusting... such wonderful qualities that make her a favorite in the Selection.

What more could she want?

_Love. _She wants love.

::

_She's in cloud nine. She's floating, like she's living in heaven here on earth._

There is no Maxon right now. There is no Selection. There are no castes.

It is just them. Not as Officer Woodwork, nor as Lady Marlee. They're together in each other's arms simply as Carter and Marlee. They're together as two teenagers in love.

He kisses her gently at first, pushing her towards him. She doesn't hesitate to respond; she kisses back. Then something that started innocently becomes more heated. Carter's hands get entangled in her hair, his kiss becoming feverish. Moments later, they pull apart and gasp for air.

Slowly, Carter caresses her head as he starts to unzip her white dress. He stops mid-zip and lowers his gaze to meet Marlee's soft brown eyes. "Are you sure this is really what you want?" He covers the excitement and longing in his voice with a more worried tone.

Marlee swallows the lump of nervousness that lodged itself in her throat. What is she so nervous about? "Yes," she replies firmly. "I didn't stay because of Maxon, I stayed because of _you_. Maxon... he's a lovely boy, but my feelings for him are meager compared to what I feel about you." There. She said it. Now all she has to do is put in action.

Carter smiles, dragging down the zipper until the dress itself starts to fall off. "I never would've thought this would come so soon."

"Me either," Marlee giggles nervously.

They stare at each other for a little longer, and when Marlee opens her mouth to say something—_"I love you"_—they hear the footsteps.

They hear them before they see them.

With wide eyes, Carter pushes Marlee off of him. She struggles to stand up as the fabric of her angel costume pools around her.

"I must say, Celeste's costume is toe-dally inspired, but that Singer girl's outfit is much more creative. Don't tell Celeste 'bout that, mm-kay?"

They're coming.

"Hide," Carter hisses, tugging her towards a closet.

"But—"

"I need to use the bathroom," the nasally voice whines. "Do you think there's one here?" Before they could do anything else, the door flies open, revealing a stout girl with a cameraman trailing behind. "And turn that thing off, I don't think Illéa would appreciate seeing me go number—" She is interrupted by an alarmed shriek, and equally baffled, she turns and finds a young man in a soldier uniform, hugging an almost naked girl protectively. "Oh my..."

"Please," Marlee begs, "don't. This... this is just..." She nudges Carter away and pulls up her dress. "You don't know... This isn't what you think."

The reporter's heavily made up face arranges itself into a giddy expression. "Actually, dear, I _do_ know. Sorry to disturb you, though." She winks at the couple before turning to the cameraman. "Did you get the whole thing?" The taller man nods his head, mouth agape. "Great! After I send this to my boss, I'll finally get the promotion I deserve. And as for you, Lady Marlee, you might be facing a demotion. This sure is a spooky Halloween! For you, I mean."

There is a wicked gleam in the woman's eye, and Marlee couldn't help but be scared.

_She's already losing her grip on cloud nine. She's not falling—she doesn't want to—, but she knows it's bound to happen._

Marlee squints under the harsh rays of the light. She had been in the cold, dark chamber for what felt like an eternity, with only the cries of the wicked to keep her company. (She knows she's not wicked. Since when was yearning for true love ever wicked?)

As they are lead to the platform, she lets her eyes wander. For a brief moment, she finds herself staring at America, the best friend she's supposed to tell her secrets to (but she never did, did she?), before moving on. She searches again, and once she found her parents, she tries to make some kind of contact with them, though they don't pay attention. They are gripping each other tightly, like life lines, their heads pressed together. Marlee knows they are crushed, as if their fragile hearts were taken away from them.

_I'm sorry, _she thinks sadly. She knew the consequences of her actions, but never once she thought of her parents feelings. How they would cope with this. How they would ever get over this day. _I'm sorry. _And suddenly, she feels wicked. True love isn't, but pushing her parents' feelings aside is.

The masked man starts speaking—shrieking, really—about her and Carter's wrongdoing. His cries are full of self-importance, willing the crowd to agree. They do. The crowd jeers and shouts and boos.

_So this is what it feels to be hated, _Marlee thinks bluntly. The thought is vain, selfish even. But this is her first time she experiences something like this. After all, isn't there a first time for everything?

"…This is a crime punishable by death! But in his mercy, Prince Maxon is going to spare these traitors their lives! Long live Prince Maxon!"

Suddenly, she is pushed to the ground, forced to kneel as the coat covering her bruised back is removed. At this, she started to cry. Marlee doesn't know what triggered it, all she knows she is afraid and cold and falling...

The crowd starts clapping at the words of the announcer, and she gets this sick thought of choosing the wrong thing. Why oh why did she choose love over the crown?

"I love you, Marlee," Carter calls. "We're going to be okay. It'll be okay, I promise."

She looks up and watches as Carter is strapped to an A-shape frame, his body pulled to mimic the structure. Marlee nods slowly, smiling weakly. The feeling of regret is disappearing as quickly as it appeared. It is shameful of her to even think of choosing wrongly. Carter loves her, and that's what matters. Being a queen is merely a position, love is something much more than that.

"…you are both hereby stripped of your castes. You are the lowest of the low. You are Eights! And to inflict upon you the shame and pain you have brought on His Majesty, you will be caned fifteen times. May your scars remind you of your many sins!"

_What does "caned" even mean?_

Almost immediately, Marlee receives her answer. From behind her, she hears a whistling sound as some sticks cut the air.

"One!"

Screams of delight and protests slices through the air, and before she can even comprehend on what is going on, Marlee feels an electrifying sensation taking over her hands. She lets out a whimper, willing herself not to scream.

"Two!"

Despite her determination to stay silent, she lets out a cry of pure anguish.

"Three!"

_Help me, God..._

All around her, a commotion is taking place. She can't address it properly; her head is pounding, her hands feel like she poked her fingers in sockets.

"MAXON!"

_America...?_

"Four!"

_Somebody, anybody! Please stop this._

"Five!"

With each strike, she's imagining herself losing grip on the cloud. She braces for impact because she knows it won't be pretty when she hits the ground.

"Six!"

"Love... you," Carter manages to sputter out.

Over her own shrieks, Marlee can hear someone screaming her name repeatedly. Her vision is becoming blurry, but from the corner of her eye, she catches America being dragged away.

At least she has Carter and America when she falls.

_She has fallen, but it's not quite obvious, isn't it?_

Marlee eagerly wrings her hands together. She can hear the voices of America and Maxon just outside the escape path. She quickly adjusts her dusty dress and flipped a stray strand of blonde hair out of her face, wincing slightly at the sight of the fading welts that decorates her palms.

She still can't believe what was happening to her. After what she had been through, she didn't expect herself to be as ecstatic as she currently is. And it was all thanks to Maxon. Days after her "Social Execution" (as the media fondly calls it), the prince located her and Carter in the weary streets of Angeles and brought them back to the palace. He admitted that while he was upset of the previous events, he really had forgiven Marlee. And since he couldn't afford to see the two die out in the streets, he decided to give them secret jobs in the palace. Marlee as a maid, and Carter as a stable boy.

And now… _now_, she is married to Carter and she is about to meet America again!

Different thoughts run through Marlee's brain. _Does America miss me? Will she cry when she sees me? Is their dirt on my uniform? Am—_

The armoire and the panel of wall suddenly swing forward and Marlee had to adjust her eyes to the light. When everything is all clear, she turns to Maxon and smiles gratefully at him, who smiles back. "Right on time."

"I wouldn't miss it," she replies honestly, giggling to herself.

Marlee sees America step around the piece of furniture, confusion written on her face. Her eyes widens hen she realizes who is standing before them, a huge grin now gracing her face. "Marlee? What are you doing here?"

"I've missed you so much!" she exclaims running to her friend. She tackles her to the ground with a bear hug and resists the urge to cry. After many days of wondering how their meeting would turn out, she couldn't believe that it is already happening.

After a few more greetings, they quiet down, letting Maxon speak. He explains to them how they only have a mere ten minutes to converse, since he can't risk anyone, let alone his father, see Marlee. The said girl watches him with careful eyes and nods. It was a simple sign of thanks, and the prince returns the gesture with a nod of his own before slipping out.

::

Marlee is a fallen angel. But maybe fallen angels like her can have a chance to reconcile with God one day.

* * *

Hopefully that wasn't too bad. :) And I hope I was able to do justice to the horrible events that happened to Marlee, especially since it's my first time writing in present tense.

Any comments, suggestions, or violent reactions? If so, you know what to do.


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